


A Pair of Dull Scissors in the Yellow Light

by firefliesforlanterns



Category: bare: A Pop Opera - Hartmere/Intrabartolo
Genre: Angst, Based on Samson by Regina Spektor, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kinda, haircut as a coping mechanism, like a lot of crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 00:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13729539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefliesforlanterns/pseuds/firefliesforlanterns
Summary: “You are my sweetest downfall / I loved you first, I loved you first”The last time they’d been packing their things to leave school, Nadia had been playing her cello and trying to annoy her roommate. She never thought that just three months later, her world would be turned inside out.





	A Pair of Dull Scissors in the Yellow Light

The world was icy and swimming in tears and regret as Nadia moved her clothes robotically from her dorm room dresser to her deep purple suitcase. She couldn’t even cry anymore, not after her day. Her mother and father were waiting for her, she knew that, but she didn’t want to leave her room to go home. She could lie in her room and pretend that Jason was still there, across the school in the boys’ dorms. At home, all she could do was look at the bed next to her own and know that it would be empty for the rest of her life. At school, it wouldn’t matter if the bed next to hers was empty. Ivy was so often out with boys that it was a usual occurence. At school, an empty bed meant Ivy was out. At home, however, an empty bed meant the worst had befallen the McConnell twins. And even though it had, all Nadia wanted was to crawl into her school bed and go to sleep, knowing Ivy would be there for her to bicker with in the morning. Even though they fought, Nadia couldn’t help but feel attached to Ivy. She always had been, even since they first met. Nadia remembered thinking that Ivy was the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen, Ivy with her dark waist-length hair and her rainy grey eyes, and immediately had let jealousy take the reins. It was easier to be jealous and off-putting than admit the truth.

The door to their room creaked open, even though Nadia was at first oblivious. She turned her head away: she couldn’t look at Ivy. She was angry at her, of course, but all she felt for her now was shame and guilt. She’d treated her badly for six years, since they’d met, and there was no doubt that this mess had damaged her beyond repair.

“Nadia?” It was barely a whisper, choked from crying. Nadia forced herself to turn her head, clenching her jaw. She gasped. “Oh, Ivy, what did you do?”

Ivy stood there, scissors in hand, half of her hair chopped off unevenly. The grey eyes were reddened from constant crying, and she didn’t show any sign of stopping. Her mascara ran rivers down her cheeks, carving out plain pale trenches in the heavy makeup that she’d worn for the funeral. She couldn’t say a word, but her tears broke Nadia’s strength. She stood up and took Ivy in her arms, taking the scissors from her hands. She sat her down, whispering to her, trying to do anything to get her to speak. Ivy only buried her face in Nadia’s hair and continued to sob, the loss she felt racking her body. Nadia stroked her roommate’s hair, the hair she had so admired for years. “I’ve got you,” she said, firmly, giving up on whispering. “I’ve got you with me now.” She couldn’t bring herself to say that it was okay, because it wasn’t. The father of Ivy’s child, Nadia’s twin brother, had committed suicide. It wasn’t okay. Nadia didn’t know how she wasn’t sobbing uncontrollably like Ivy was.

Ivy pulled away, trying to wipe her eyes on her sleeves. “D-do you know h-how to cut hair?” she asked, through her persistent tears. “I-I fucked it up.”

Nadia nodded. Her mom had never been around: she and Jason had cut each other’s hair since they were kids. “Let’s get you set up, I think I can fix this,” she whispered.

Nadia pulled a dress from her suitcase, draping it around Ivy’s still-shaking shoulders. She knew to be gentle here: Ivy had the same look in her eyes as a scared show horse, just out of its dark and familiar trailer. She led her to their mirror, pouring water from her plastic sticker covered Notre Dame water bottle onto Ivy’s hairbrush. Nadia wet her hair gently, running water through the waves and straightening them out, stray hairs falling from their place where Ivy had cut too high or too low. She picked up her own comb, a remnant from Jason’s terrible gift-giving, and started to work intently on fixing Ivy’s hair. “How long do you want it?” she asked, her voice soft and breaking.

Ivy shook her head. “Take as much off as you want. I don’t care anymore.”

Nadia said nothing: she understood. She began working at Ivy’s mane once again, snipping and combing and trying to do her best. After what seemed like ages, Nadia had worked Ivy’s uneven chopping job into a wavy pixie cut, keeping the hair from sitting like a weight on her shoulders. “How do you like it?” she whispered, hopeful and hurting, begging God that she hadn’t ruined the one thing that could help Ivy.

Ivy turned around, tears in her eyes. “I love it,” she said, her voice having found its footing. She drew in closer to Nadia. “I love it so much, and it’s everything I needed, and...” she trailed off, her hand touching Nadia’s cheek. “And I...”

And suddenly, Ivy was kissing Nadia, and Nadia wasn’t pulling away. Ivy’s soft lips met Nadia’s and their tears mingled together, Ivy’s faded lipstick tasting of marshmallows and everything Nadia had ever wanted since they’d met and she’d seen her beautiful hair. Nadia couldn’t let go of the kisses Ivy was giving her, she welcomed them, her feelings bursting out from behind the dam she’d kept them behind for so long. Ivy pulled back, and Nadia looked at her longingly. She was wide-eyed, afraid of what she’d done. Nadia’s heart fell. She got up, and sat down on her bed. Ivy was shaking again, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry, that shouldn’t have happened, I shouldn’t have done that--”

“Shh,” said Nadia, taking Ivy’s hand. Ivy sat down next to her, trying to take deep breaths. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Ivy said, crying again. “I just think that you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, you with your blue eyes and your curly dark red hair, I wanted all of that, I don’t-- I didn’t--”

Ivy,” said Nadia. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

Ivy looked into Nadia’s eyes with wonder and shock. “Really?” she asked, in the softest, most hopeful voice Nadia’d ever heard.

Nadia smiled. “Yes, really,” she replied, her voice cracking on the words.

Ivy kissed her again, and the girls embraced and allowed themselves their connection that they’d denied for six long years, with Nadia tasting Ivy’s marshmallow lips once again and feeling the contours of her shape, as she felt Ivy’s fingers lovingly explore the body Nadia had hated for so long.

There was a buzz from the corner. It broke Nadia’s heart hearing it: that was her phone, that was her mom, no doubt asking where on earth she was, what she was wasting all her time with. She savored a last kiss from Ivy, then broke them apart. She began to cry, looking at the buzzing’s source.

“I have to go,” she said, defeated.

Ivy nodded, clearly pained but understanding the reality of their situation. She threw her arms around Nadia, making sure not to speak, ensuring that their final goodbye not one of words, but one of something deeper: the touch that both had longed for for ages, and the touch that neither would likely feel again.


End file.
